


The Princess Knight

by Nebulad



Series: Gift Fic [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your sister and the dwarf promised me money to bring you from this tower,” Fenris said.</p><p>“Good luck with that.” She was playing with a red ribbon idly.</p><p>“What do you do up here all day?” he asked, looking around. The room she was in was a fair size, but didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. There…. were books, he supposed. Many of them. Had he been able to enjoy them he supposed the solitude might not be so bad, if he were not loathe to trade one dragon for another.</p><p>“Oh I sing to birds and have my animal friends help me clean,” Hawke said, gesturing around at her clearly empty space.</p><p>“Not very well, it would seem.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Princess Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [v3ilfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/gifts).



(art by [ingredient-x](http://ingredient-x.tumblr.com/))

* * *

 

 

Fenris had never claimed to be a particularly agreeable prince, and was subsequently surprised every time that someone was shocked by his sullen countenance. When had he ever given anyone the impression that he was some nonsensical fool who dragged himself through danger for perfect strangers? It was best left to the humans. “But you’re a _prince,”_ the witch in front of him stammered. “You’re _supposed_ to help the damsel!”

“Why?” he drawled, busying himself with his tankard instead of the dithering thing in front of him. Not only would he not help the damsel, but he didn’t particularly feel like aiding the witch either- and why should he? He had his own damn problems- the dragon he had fled in Tevinter had been spotted further south, being led by the dark wizard that had trapped him in the tower. If Fenris wished to get away, he could not waste time on every villager’s damn problems.

“She’s trapped in a tower by a _dragon!”_ the witch snapped.

“I’ve enough problems with the beasts, I don’t need yours too,” he said briskly, standing up. He would retreat to his room and leave the girl to find another idiot to throw himself on the sword for her sister- no doubt another witch, collecting the men that her sister sent on the fool’s journey.

“I can pay you!” Fenris stopped. The room and the drinks had left his pockets much lighter than before, and with the extra money he could be gone faster than his dragon and its master could pursue. “I have gold. All you have to do is save my sister and I’ll give you everything I have.” The witch held her head stubbornly high, staring at him coldly. He was a new element now- no kindly prince, but a man who needed money. A mercenary with an unfortunate reputation.

“Where is she, then?” he asked. There would be no harm in scouting the location- find a tower with a dragon and see what could be done.

“Follow the forked road east and you’ll find where she’s kept. I’ll be waiting here for her with your reward.” She held out her hand and Fenris declined the gesture, instead turning for the door. Evening was the best time to scout, as he could see clearly but others could not. The witch who had begged his help was human, and so her sister would be as well- there was no true advantage for anyone but him.

And hopefully it would not be long before he could flee again.

. . . . .

The dragon that coiled around the tower in thick, scaly ropes was so pale that it hurt to look at even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the thick trees. Fenris carefully sidestepped the sleeping beast, noting that the thing had been grievously wounded in the past. Jagged scars cut down its body making deep craters in the skin, but the wounds looked otherwise healed.

He circled the tower once and found a spot where he could climb without disturbing the dragon, and began his ascent. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to fight anything, simply grab the fool maiden and scale back down before the monster was any wiser. He leapt into an open window and rolled as he landed hard on the floor of the highest room.

“Well that’s new.” A human sat in a chair by the fire, but…. not quite the sort Fenris had been expecting. She resembled the witch who had begged his help closely, with shockingly white, unmarked skin, coal-black hair, and violently blue eyes. She was dressed in some semblance of armour though, probably better than what he had. Her leathers were clean and unmarked, and she even had a vividly red cape draped over her shoulders and two expensive daggers in a holster draped over the chair she sat in.

“I’m… looking for a maiden,” Fenris began haltingly.

“Ouch.”

“If you are her then I will leave you here,” he said, anger growing in his gut. It _had_ been a trap, it must have been because this woman was more than capable of hauling her ass out of that tower. Fenris had done so himself in the north with much less than two sharp daggers and fine leather armour.

“Bye then- and would you please tell Bethie to stop sending people? It was cute at first but now I can’t even make a pancake without someone hopping through the window and rolling around on my floor,” she said, turning back to the book in her lap.

Fenris turned to leave but, in his typical fashion, was too angry to let the subject drop. “Why are you here?” he demanded, gesturing out the window. “Your sister sits in the bar and begs me to save you and yet-”

“Bethie misses me. I’m fine here- you get used to the smell of dragon after a while,” she said glibly. “Not so easily as mabari, though- did she have a dog with her by chance?”

“Why do you not _leave?”_ he demanded.

“You didn’t answer my dog question.”

“Because it was foolish. She had no mabari.”

“Damn, Varric must still have him. Poor thing- you know the worst part of all this is not being able to keep a proper dog around. I think it would really brighten the place up, but with the dragon there I just can’t take the risk,” she said is a faux-wistful sort of way.

“Why- are- you- still- here?” he asked, putting a special condescending emphasis on each word.

“I think it’s cozy- you know, besides the flesh eating monster wrapped around the tower.” She grinned and he scowled back at her.

“Fine- play the fool in your prison if you’d like,” he snapped, taking to the window.

“Toodle-oo… oh, and ser?” she asked, not looking up from her book. Fenris paused. “If you hurt Bethany, I _will_ know.” Her voice had dropped a little, but when she looked up at him she grinned pleasantly. “Have a nice trip.”

. . . . .

Fenris stormed back to the bar and saw that the witch- Bethany, he presumed- had been joined by a dwarf in a noble’s clothes and… a mabari. _Delightful._ “You’re back!” the girl cried upon seeing him, bolting upwards.

“I will not save a _knight_ from a tower,” he spat. “If she wants down she can crawl down her damn self.” He wouldn’t try harming the girl- it wasn’t worth it for whatever pittance she had meant to pay him, and he didn’t like the cautious way the dwarf was eyeing him.

“But she _needs_ help- she _refuses_ to go!” Bethany insisted.

“I told you, Sunshine, if Hawke wants to stay up there then it’s gunna take a tougher man than the elf here to get her down,” the dwarf said- he must have been Varric, as he’d come to the bar with the dog. “We need to go at this from a different angle.”

“We _can’t._ She won’t leave for anyone except us, but the dragon attacks us on sight!”

“Calm down now, before we cause a… scene,” Varric warned. Bethany took several deep breaths, and Fenris felt the magic in the room ebb away. “Now elf, we could still use your help- Sunshine here doesn’t have too much to pay you, but _I_ do. I also have a pretty respectable information network.”

“So?” Fenris demanded. He was tired of these games and the urgency of his flight was rising- he didn’t know where his dragon was or if it yet knew where he was. It was best to keep moving- the longer he stayed, the more conspicuous he was.

“Well, there’s a whole pile of wizards from the north that’ve been nosing around lately.” Fenris tensed. “I could keep an eye on them, let you know when things get a bit too hot.”

“I could simply leave,” he snapped.

“If you like running blind, sure.” The dwarf grinned and Fenris scowled in return.

. . . . .

“Oh, you’re back. Did Bethie hit you on the head hard enough to make you forget we’ve been through this once?” the knight asked wearily. Fenris came armed with a little more information this time- her name was Hesta Hawke, and she’d gone north with her mother, brother, and sister after her father had died. Her brother had been killed on the journey over, and her mother died after they’d settled in a nearby city. Bethany had been taken in by Templars, and Hawke had blamed herself for the lot of it.

 _She practically built the tower herself. With every bad thing that happened, the dragon got bigger and bigger until we couldn’t visit her anymore. She just sits up there with that thing and tells herself it’s for the best,_ Varric had told him. Fenris’ job was to be an inside contact, trying to reestablish a link between the world and Hesta.

“She and the dwarf promised me money to bring you from this tower,” he said.

“Good luck with that.” She was playing with a red ribbon idly.

“What do you do up here all day?” he asked, looking around. The room she was in was a fair size, but didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. There…. _were_ books, he supposed. Many of them. Had he been able to enjoy them he supposed the solitude might not be so bad, if he were not loathe to trade one dragon for another.

“Oh I sing to birds and have my animal friends help me clean,” she said, gesturing around at her clearly empty space.

“Not very well, it would seem.” That made her laugh.

“Well after the first doe got ripped to shreds by the Big Ugly-,” she gestured to the window, implying the dragon, “-it sort of put a damper on further sing-alongs.”

“What do you eat?” he asked.

“Iced cupcakes and sugar flowers.”

“Hawke.”

“Whatever Big Ugly throws through the window. Not much,” she admitted. That was true- her pale face was gaunt and she seemed very tired. There were deep circles under her eyes which made him think that she slept very little, but he didn’t bother to ask.

“So you just sit here and read, occasionally eating whatever’s left of a woodland animal?” It seemed a poor way to live, but based on what Varric had told him? It wasn’t surprising. He remembered living a similar life, sitting in his tower and waiting for the master to tell him what to do.

“Sometimes I knit. I made a sweater- one of the sleeves is longer than the other but who’s going to judge me for it?” she asked.

“Me, now,” he returned. She snorted.

“ _You_ won’t be staying long,” she argued. “There’s a great big world out there full of stuff for a weird, glowing elf to enjoy. This tower isn’t big enough for two.”

“Speaking literally, it very much is,” he pointed out. The room could more than accommodate both him and Hesta- it wasn’t his plan to sleep there, but still.

“Big Ugly won’t feed you,” she warned.

“I learned an impressive skill while living my life outside of a tower- I _am_ capable of feeding myself without the help of an indifferent beast.” That was, perhaps, meant to mock her a little. In his experience, most humans responded to mockery- Hesta just sort of rolled her eyes.

“ _Fine._ Bookshelf is over there when you get bored.”

“I cannot read,” he said flatly. She turned to look at him, frowning a little. “My dragon did not need me to be literate.” Best to let her know right away that he wasn’t speaking to her as a man who didn’t know a thing about towers.

“And yet here you are,” she said in an almost encouraging fashion.

“Indeed- I left of my own free will, with nothing waiting for me but the world. _You_ choose to sit in here- master of your own dragon, yet hiding away from your family.” Hesta was quiet for a moment, her face unreadable- he blinked, and she was grinning again.

“This way I have an excuse to skip family reunions- no aunties asking me if I’m married yet,” she said flippantly. Varric had warned him that Hesta could be insufferably glib, and yet Fenris felt himself being irritated by it anyway.

He still had a long way to go, though.

. . . . .

He returned the next evening with a basket full of food. There was bread and vegetables and fruit- everything under the sun that Bethany could fit into a wicker basket. She’d almost insisted upon him taking two, but Varric had warned her about spooking Hesta away. Another friend of Hawke’s that he had met, Isabela, had warned him to ensure she ate vegetables. _Hawke cannot live on squirrels alone,_ she said.

Hesta’s eyes fluttered up, and then back down. She didn’t greet him or ask what he was carrying- she looked terribly tired. “I have food,” he said shortly.

“Congratulations,” she mumbled.

“I’ve been told to force feed you vegetables until the scurvy goes away,” he tried. Hawke smiled, sitting up a little. A rough night- she was in soft pants and her breastband, which is what he imagined she slept in. Her armour was gathered neatly on a mannequin in the corner, and she slumped still in her seat.

“I don’t have scurvy,” she told him, but accepted the plate he handed her and slid down to the floor to pick at the basket. “I’ve got a garden in a spare room.”

He might have asked why she was so poorly fed if she grew her own food, but kept quiet. “So all that talk of your dragon not feeding me?” he asked.

“I try to be a poor hostess. People leave faster that way,” she said, taking a handful of grapes and shoving them all in her mouth at once.

“I can hardly imagine you as a farmer,” he said, which was true. Granted, he didn’t know her all that well, but she didn’t look like she had the temperament for plants.

“Not all of us can swing in and out the window any time we please,” she teased. “Everyone needs a hobby- just don’t tell the others.”

“It would comfort them to know you are fed.”

“Varric’s been writing a book about me and I’d hate for him to have to try and squeeze me _and_ Merrill in as the flower loving peace children,” she said. He hadn’t met Merrill yet, but neglected to ask who she was. He suspected he’d be meeting many of Hawke’s friends before his task was complete.

“Can I _see_ the garden?” he asked, making a motion to stand up.

“Depends. Do you want me to show you after I’m finished eating, or drag me there kicking, screaming, and trying to stuff a pastry into my mouth?” she asked. He sat back down. “Good choice.”

. . . . .

“Beets are over there- not terribly fond of them but my seed options are limited. I’ve got tomatoes over by the window and potatoes… somewhere. I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll find them eventually,” she said, gesturing vaguely towards each vegetable as she named it. The garden was hot and the air was moist, but Hesta seemed at ease- still groggy, but more relaxed.

“Where do you find the seeds?” he asked.

“Mostly attached to the dead animals Big Ugly throws up. Over there are the Arnold’s…”

“Arnold’s?”

“I don’t know what sort of seed they are so I gave them a name and now I’m waiting,” she explained. “Did you grow anything in your tower?” She cast her eyes behind her a little, just enough to look at him without turning her head.

“No.”

“What did you eat?”

“I was fed.”

“By?”

“Not your business,” he said brusquely. She shrugged and turned to tend to her plants while he watched. She had remarkably steady hands and displayed none of the flippancy she did when she actually opened her mouth to speak. “How long have you been up here?” he asked.

“Oh, who knows? Time flies when you’re having fun,” she said easily. She would not answer- he would remember to ask Varric later. “Here, have a bean- it’s shaped like you are, all stringy.”

. . . . .

The seasons came and went but true to his word, Varric kept the wizards away from Fenris. In exchange, the elf continued to visit Hesta, brushing away all her halfhearted insistences that he tell Bethany to give up. The witch- who, admittedly, Fenris was growing to like- was half as stubborn as Hesta, which was still an impressive amount of bullheadedness.

Winter didn't sit well with the elf- to the north it was always hot, and he was unaccustomed to the chill. “Oh you big baby, it isn’t even cold yet!” Hesta said as he glared at her from a small crack in his blanket cocoon.

“It’s _freezing.”_

“It’s not even cold enough to snow,” Hesta said, stretching out her arms. She was wearing a tanktop. He was cold just looking at her, and scooted closer to the fire he’d insisted she make. “Oh come here, you’re pathetic to look at,” she scolded, shifting down onto the floor and scooting over to him. She gestured for him to open his blanket for her and he glared for a solid minute before very irritably exposing himself to cold for her to get in with him.

That was a mistake.

“ _Fasta vass_ you’re like hugging a snowman,” he snapped trying to struggle away.

“You made your bed, now lie in it,” she said, shuffling after him. He crawled away from the tangle of blankets and ghostly white limbs to launch across the floor. Hesta was in hot pursuit, laughing breathlessly- she got remarkably little exercise wasting away in the tower, and even less sleep.

He leapt out the window, quickly reaching to grab onto a thick vine by the sill to keep himself up. She rushed to the opening after him but stopped short of leaving, just… draping herself out the window. She looked prettier when she was enjoying herself, he found- more like Bethany and less like a phantom. “Clever plan, Fenris, but not the first time someone has tried to make me chase them out,” she said, still grinning.

“If it had worked I might have felt foolish for not trying earlier,” he said carelessly. She laughed.

“Well, you’re quite welcome then. I do what I can to protect the egos of good-looking men.” Her eyes drifted out into the forest and he didn’t comment on her compliment. “I appreciate you coming to see me,” she said suddenly. “It’s nice to be reminded that other people exist every now and then.”

“Your family is barely a fifteen minute walk away,” he pointed out. She stared down at the sleeping dragon, her brow furrowing a little. As quickly as displeasure crossed her face it was gone, replaced by a flirtatious smile.

“Fifteen whole minutes? I won’t do it,” she declared, swooning backwards dramatically. “My legs would give out! My lungs would deflate!” He rolled his eyes, swinging back into her room.

“I’ll tell Bethany you died bravely less than a foot from the village,” he promised, settling back down into his blanket nest.

. . . . .

“The… preci- preki- no, I was right the first time- precipi… tation-” Fenris frown at the book, leaning closer to try and keep his place. Hesta sat next to him, nodding encouragingly while he struggled to read. She had been a surprisingly good teacher, even with the horrible puns. “-in Fare- Ferel… oh, Ferelden. What am I reading?” he asked.

“A travel guide to Ferelden,” she informed him.

“You have thousands of books, and you hand me the travel guide?”

“Joke’s on you, I only have the travel guide. The rest are just blank to make me look smart.”

“To whom?”

“Mostly dead squirrels and curious birds,” she said, leaning against his side. He put his arm around her without thinking, and both of them froze a little.

“I’m sor-”

“It’s fine,” she said. Neither of them moved. “Do you want a different book?” she asked. _She will have to stand to go get one._

“No,” he said quickly, then backtracked. “I’m attached to the story. If we stop now how will I ever learn the mystery of Ferelden’s precipitation patterns?” She laughed nervously, breathy and warm. “Is this… all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” They sat in silence a moment longer, before Hesta changed the subject. “Can you… tell me about Bethany?”

“You know more of her than I do,” he protested.

“No, I meant- how is she doing? Is she safe? Happy? Are there Templars after her?” Hesta’s breathing sped up as she allowed herself to wonder what horrible condition her sister may be in, so Fenris interjected quickly.

“She is fine- she eats well and hopes to see you again. Varric tells me she has been given dispensation by the Circle to attend to family matters,” he told her. Hesta frowned.

“That doesn’t _sound_ like the Circle,” she protested.

“I was also told that a lot of Varric’s money changed hands to make it possible. So long as there isn’t an incident she remains with her minder.”

“Varric?”

“No, a woman named Aveline,” he told her. The guardsman was mildly reclusive, busy attending to both her duties as captain of the guard and minder of Bethany. The woman trusted the mage, clearly, and only stopped in to ensure that Isabela hadn’t set anything on fire and Bethany hadn’t been bothered by anyone.

Hesta grinned. “Good ol’ Aveline,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “Never lets me down.”

“I have met many of your friends,” he encouraged, hoping she would ask about them as well.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think you exceed at picking up strays,” he said with a smile.

“That includes you,” she reminded him, poking his chest.

“I never said it didn’t.” Something… odd passed over them again, both of them abruptly reminded of his arm (still around her) and her body (still leaning against him). There was a heartbeat- both of them opened their mouths to speak, then closed them to allow the other to go first. It happened twice before the stirring of the dragon outside jolted them.

“You should go,” she said in a rush. “Before Big Ugly catches you.” He rose, feeling colder than before, and moved towards the window. Hesta followed him, and like she had for nights, leaned out the window as he crawled out of it. “I’ll see you,” she said.

He paused, just watching her. She didn’t look…. right. It was as if something was missing from her- like he was looking at a half-formed Hesta. It was difficult to explain, but he could have sworn for a moment that a piece of her that he had never seen was missing. “Fenris?” she asked.

In a rush of impulse, he leaned over and kissed her. There was a moment where it seemed like she wasn’t going to do anything but wait for him to move, but then she returned the gesture by leaning out a bit further and kissing him back.

The dragon’s roar interrupted them and Hesta pushed him away. He looked at her for another second, trying to decide what wasn’t there, then scurried down the tower and back out into the woods before the dragon could rouse itself properly.

. . . . .

Fenris agonized for the entire day before returning to the tower, scaling up and sliding in easily. Hesta was pacing across her floor, barely acknowledging him for a moment. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, stopping suddenly.

“It is a good thing that your window cannot close, then,” he teased. She grinned.

“Oh aren’t you clever? I’ve been thinking about Bethany- well, Beth and Varric and Bela and Aveline and Merrill and… and you,” she admitted. He straightened up a little. “I want… I want to leave,” she said. His pulse jumped. “I need… help though. Although you have to promise that if you help me you have to tell Varric that I single handedly wrestled the dragon to the ground and delivered a scathing one liner before killing it.”

“Anything,” he told her, back up a little. The window was open, the dragon was asleep- Hesta was armed and ready to go. “We can be gone before it even wakes up,” he said. She shook her head.

“It’ll wake up when I try to leave, and even if we make it away the dragon will just keep chasing me. We’re going to have to employ violence in this situation,” she told him. He reached back for his sword- he always kept it on him, even during the short walk to the tower. He couldn’t risk coming upon one of his master’s henchmen.

“I’m ready,” he promised. She followed him to the window, then abruptly grabbed his collar and dragged him down to kiss. He pulled her against him and turned to press her against the wall and felt her arms wind around him. He pulled away when he heard the dragon wake. “I believe we have a dragon to slay,” he told her softly.

“Yeah.” She seemed unsettled, but otherwise ready. She left the window first, her legs shaking as she slid down the path on the wall that Fenris knew by touch. When she hit the ground with a thud, she smiled up at him. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

“You still have the fifteen minute walk ahead of you,” he reminded her. She groaned.

“Is it too late to go back up?”

The dragon swung around faster than Fenris had ever seen it move, roaring into the open air. He saw its eyes for the first time- shockingly blue, just like Hesta’s. He backed up instinctively, drawing the greatsword on his back. Hesta already had her daggers in hand and had thrown herself under the creature’s stumpy legs.

“ _Distract it!”_ she shouted, darting behind the beast. It turned to follow her, but Fenris shocked his lyrium to life to draw the monster’s eye. It worked and Big Ugly waddled towards him, snapping its ferocious teeth at the elf. Fenris jumped to the side, swinging his greatsword hard to make contact with its leg.

The roar was earsplitting and hot red blood stained its pearly white scales. The creature was frenzied, hurling itself from side to side and limping towards Fenris still. The elf rolled in the opposite direction, towards the tower- he didn’t expect the beast to swing out its serpentine tail and knock the entire thing over.

By the breadth of a hair Fenris avoided being crushed by the falling rocks, and in his hurry to avoid it, stumbled and rolled a few feet. The beast took its opportunity, rushing towards him- Fenris looked up and saw Hesta precariously poised on its head, panting. She delivered no line, having no breath to do so, but stabbed her daggers directly into the beast’s skull.

The scream it gave made Fenris’ ears ring and blocked out all other sound for a minute afterwards. A hideously bright yellow light burst from the dragon, engulfing Hesta and the tower and everything in its path. Fenris threw himself on his stomach to try and crawl over to her- his ankle _hurt_ , which he imagined was the consequence of tripping over yourself trying to flee a falling building- but was briefly stunned by the light.

When the dust settled, the dragon was gone. There was no one but Hesta, sitting in the marks left in the dirt by a massive battle, her head spinning a little. When Fenris finally got a good look at her- when he had finally crawled over, shaking so badly that it took double the time it would have under any other circumstances- he found that she was changed.

Her hair, for one, was mostly gone- instead of shoulder length locks pulled back out of her face, it was short and choppy against her head. The dragon’s scars were hers now, making deep marks across her face. A streak of blood stained her skin across the bridge of her nose and she blinked at him. His heart pounded because there was nothing missing anymore. He felt like he was looking at her for the first time- her, all the way through.

“Well. That fight certainly didn’t _drag-on_ , did it?” she asked.

There was a beat, and Fenris felt the moment wither and die.

“Was that a pun?”

“We certainly tipped the _scales_ on that one.”

“I think my ankle is broken.”

“It went surprisingly well, considering we decided to _wing_ it.”

“I’m leaving.”

“ _Sister?”_ Hesta was- very fortunately, in Fenris’ opinion- cut off by her sister’s cry. Bethany charged into the clearing, followed by a panting Varric and overeager dog. As soon as Hawke stood up she was taken back down by the mabari, leaving thick slimy trails of spit down her face.

“I missed you too Nug!” she shouted, hugging her dog. Bethany was next, and in true Ferelden fashion, seemed completely unconcerned by the enormous mutt.

“We heard the dragon,” Varric said, trying to catch his breath.

“Please don’t mention the dragon,” Fenris begged.

“It was a tough battle,” Hesta said dramatically. “It was going to devour us, _wyvern_ we like it or not.” Aveline groaned, looking like she regretted entering the clearing, with Merrill and Isabela in tow. “It’ll make an amazing _tail_ though,” she added.

“Speaking of which,” Fenris said loudly, to stop her before she started. “The tower is gone.”

Hesta turned as if she hadn’t noticed during the fight. She stared at the rubble and- Fenris hardly counted a second- threw herself dramatically to her knees.

“My Arnold’s! Now I’ll never know what they were!”

. . . . .

Hesta was a little overwhelmed by everyone at once, so when she retired she followed Fenris to his room. It was a logical enough decision- Fenris had seen her every day for a year. Although he was glad she was out of the tower, her presence didn’t affect him in the same way it did her friends who hadn’t seen her since her mother died.

She rested her head on his chest, sleeping in a sounder manner than he had expected from her. He stared out their open window at the sky- technically, he was free. He could collect payment from Varric and leave, fleeing his master so quickly that the man wouldn’t catch up for years. He could even try paying mercenaries to kill the bastard _and_ his dragon.

“Fenris?” Hesta murmured.

“H’m?” His hands were drawn to her hair- the shortness of it was still a novelty.

“What do you get when a dragon sneezes?” she asked.

“Hawke.”

“Out of the way.”

He sighed, realizing all at once that not only was he staying, but that they would have to go out and kill something else before she would quit with the dragon jokes.

**Author's Note:**

> B I R T H D A Y F I C !! Hesta Hawke isn't mine but belongs to v3ilfire !! You can find OODLES of Hesta Hawke on v3ilfire's AO3, or her tumblr of the same name !! H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y !!
> 
> It's v3ilfire's birthday soon so me and ingredient-x TEAMED THE FUCK UP and she drew the LOVELY illustration at the beginning and I wrote this fic and even fixed the typos !! The original copies are on nebulaad.tumblr.com, ingredient-x.tumblr.com, and v3ilfire.tumblr.com respectively. Three new blogs just for you. Go say happy birthday to v3ilfire too js....


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